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[shadow=black,right][shadow=black,left][size=20pt]S t r a w b e r r y C r o w[/size]
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Guides
[align=center]Felidae Guide|Words Guide
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There was a long moment where nothing happened.
It seemed as if everything was suspended, the sun had stopped setting and temperature held steady. Even the birds seemed to hush the incessant singing of theirs, just for this moment. That time before the first pounce, white tipped tail flicking gently, orange tabby stripes lining along his ribs. Res was hungry enough to attempt fishing. It was obvious by the way he angled himself over the water, allowing his shadow to stretch over the gently rippling lake, that he had no idea what he was doing.
Res was a scrawny cat, always destined to look more like an overgrown kitten than an adult. His head always tipped to his left side, and it was painfully obvious he had little control of the left side of his face. From the way his jaw hung gently open on that side to the way his eye was seemingly forever dilated and half lidded, it gave Res the look of being half dead. Yet it seemed to make his right side more likely. His ear always flicking to a fro in an attempt to make up for the completely numb other, and the way his pale green good-eye danced from one location to the next, never lingering or halting.
Even now, as Res waited for his next meal to surface from the pond, his gaze traveled across the water, searching for any movement other than the subtle ripples. It seemed to grow dark all at once, and it took Res several moments to realize that time didn't stop, but he had just blocked away the sensations of the chirping birds and steadily dropping temperature. Growing impatient and frustrated, Res let his hind legs tense and his forelegs bend just a little bit, until the release. In one leap, Res found himself surrounded by water, water that was much much deeper than he imagined.
Keeping his head above the surface was a hard enough task to begin with, especially since walking in a straight line was trouble enough, but getting back to a place where he could touch was out of the question. The pondbed was so close, not even seven tail-lengths, yet the way the pond seemed to eagerly pull at his fur, begging him to sink down under its murky waters and become a meal for the fish, it was helpless. Even though he doubted anyone would hear, a strangled cry for help escaped Res. It was long and pitiful, filled with desperation and fear.
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